


Never Tear Us Apart

by officialsarahjay



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: F/M, I'm Sorry, Recreational Drug Use, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialsarahjay/pseuds/officialsarahjay
Summary: A fluffy nonsensical PWP that shadows approximately 24 hours in the life of Allison and Klaus Hargreeves.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Kudos: 21





	Never Tear Us Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Alright everyone so in my defense I was really REALLY stupid stoned when I came up with this concept, and I had some leftover one liners I cut from my last fic that I didn't want to see wasted, and somehow I came up with...with this? I don't even ship this? It's useless silly fluff and I'm sorry but you know, maybe someone might really like this who knows enjoy!

2015

It was approximately 10:30 on a Thursday when Klaus was stirred from a wine-soaked slumber by the harsh trill of his telephone. It rang three times before he reached for the receiver and held it upside down to his face.

“The fuck you want?” he barked, before turning the receiver around the right way and repeating himself.

“I’m-I’m-sorry – ”

“Oh my God if this is about the money I’ll get it to you next week, I’m in transition right now and my living arrangements are just a little up in the air,” he groaned.

“Klaus, it’s me, I’m sorry – ”

“Allison?”

“I’m sorry for-for-for waking you – ”

Klaus sat up in attention.

“Allison, are you okay? You sound like you’re crying.”

“It’s Luther. He – he – he - ”

Klaus shook his head. He couldn’t make sense of anything she was saying, her sobs were so heavy. So he slid out of bed and said “Are you in town? You know where my place is, right?”

“Y-yes, I’m in town, I remember.”

“Alright, I want to see you here in half an hour.”

*

Klaus threw the front door open and leaned dramatically against the frame, modeling a long, flowing dressing gown and a turban a la Grey Gardens.

“Oh you poor thing,” he sighed and stepped aside. “Come in, I have exactly what you need.”

“Which is?”

“Boxed wine!”

Allison laughed lightly and strode through, pausing just inside the entrance to look around Klaus’s loft in awe. It was surprisingly un-Klaus: exposed brick, high ceilings, windows that doubled as walls. Even the furniture was tasteful and modern, and aside from a few Klaus-like signatures (bottles of alcohol next to a plate with suspicious white lines, boas and ballgowns strewn over armchairs and across floors, reflective surfaces vandalized with greasy black eyeliner), Allison could have sworn she was standing in someone else’s home.

“Klaus, I keep forgetting just how beautiful your place is. What convinced you to move?” she asked.

“I’m being evicted!” Klaus said cheerfully from the bar, as he overfilled two wine glasses with the finest Franzia he had on tap. He handed Allison a glass and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a long story, but I stopped paying rent and my landlord is an asshole.”

“So is he an asshole because you stopped paying rent, or did you stop paying rent because he’s an asshole?” Looking around, she exclaimed, “you haven’t even packed!” Klaus shrugged and drained his glass before turning back to the box and twisting the nozzle.

“Allison, these things? They’re just things. I’m finding myself right now, I’m going through this minimalism thing, I’m letting go of my attachments to things.”

“You’re going to screw your landlord with the stuff.”

“You are so bright, Allison Hargreeves!”

“Do you even have another place lined up?” Allison asked, her voice raised with concern. Klaus shrugged.

“I’ll be fine. I can always find a place to stay. Being a gigantic _hure_ gives me that advantage,” he said nonchalantly. “Allison, today is about you. So. Let’s sit on the couch – not that one, the other one – and tell me everything because I’m afraid I didn’t quite understand. What exactly did a pack of rabid Lutherans do to you?”

Allison stared at Klaus with obvious confusion before saying, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The phone call from this morning. You said what about rabid Lutherans?”

“Oh my God, no, I said Luther went to the moon!” she exclaimed. “Yesterday! I found out after the fact that Dad had...he...he...” and she began to hiccup and her face began to crumble and inky tears began to roll down her cheeks. The waterworks had returned.

“Oh honey,” Klaus sighed. He sat his glass on the coffee table and pulled Allison into his arms. “I’m sure it’s only temporary, I don’t think Dad hates Luther so much that he would launch him to the moon. If Dad hated Luther, he would simply have him killed!”

“Whaaaaa?” Allison whimpered.

“I mean, there had to have been a reason, right? Luther’s still working for Dad, I’m sure it’s some fancy-dancy mission that we’re not privy to because we’re traitorous assholes.”

“I...I don’t know,” Allison said, her voice thick with emotion. “I just can’t believe...I can’t believe Luther didn’t tell me. That I had to find this out through Pogo...” She hiccuped, and squeaked out another high sob. “Why didn’t Luther tell me?”

Klaus stammered and shrugged.

“I always thought Luther would...that he would tell me...because the moon...” she turned to Klaus and gave him the most heartbreaking expression he had ever seen. “What if something happens? Anything could happen out there! He’s so far away, and...and anything can...”

“Allison,” Klaus said in a low voice. “I know what you’re thinking and you need to stop that, right now.”

“Klaus, you don’t understand – ”

“No, I think I understand exactly,” Klaus said. “You still haven’t told him that you’re in love with him?”

Allison stared at Klaus for a moment before shaking her head.

“Allison, why not?”

“It just...the time never seemed right, and Patrick...”

“Fuck that. Allison, you need to tell him.” Klaus reached for his glass, swallowed back a few large gulps, and sat it back down with more force than needed, causing some to splash back onto the sleeve of his gown. “I’m sure Dad is in regular communication with him, so write him a fucking letter and send it right up!”

“Klaus – ”

“Okay, let’s entertain your little worst case fantasy,” Klaus sighed. “Do you really want him to die up there without ever knowing you’re in love him? Christ, the way he looks at you, he thinks you hung the very moon he’s sitting on. C’mon, we’re adults, it’s time to finally be honest. I think you both deserve it.”

Allison paused.

“Do you really think so?” she asked.

“I think your whole lives have built up to you two running away together and having pseudo-incest babies,” Klaus said with a lazy shrug. “And I’ll be the proud alcoholic uncle to each and every one of those babies.”

Allison gave Klaus a small smile and reached for her glass.

“I think I might, thanks,” she said pensively before taking a small sip. Not wanting to linger on the subject of heartache any longer, she asked “so, how are you and...and...that...” waving her hand over the name, as she could never remember the names of any of Klaus’s revolving door of partners, she said “you know, you two still together?”

“Oh god no, I threw him out months ago,” Klaus said with disgust.

“So then, are you seeing anyone?”

“No, no one deserves to be shackled up to someone like me. I’m not what any sane, rational human being would call ‘boyfriend material’,” he said, forming air quotes around the last two words. “No, it’s risky, anonymous sex for me, thanks.”

“That doesn’t sound...” she paused, searching for the word. “Safe.”

“Hey, I’m not stupid. I get tested,” he said casually. “I’d be more concerned for any fatherless children, personally.”

“That’s a joke, right?” Allison asked, and Klaus shrugged dramatically.

“Allison, I’ve been whoring around since I was thirteen and in none of those years have I ever used anything remotely close to birth control,” he said with a dismissive wave. “We have to acknowledge that the possibility I’ve spawned bastards is relatively high.”

“How on earth does that not just eat you up?” Allison asked in disbelief. “I mean, I couldn’t imagine...if I even suspected I had a child, I would do everything I could to reunite myself with them.”

“That’s where you and I differ, sweetie. Until the mother comes dragging the screeching thing up to my door, it’s out of sight and out of mind. Besides, I’m holding out for the dramatic midlife reunion with my grown offspring.”

“Pardon me?”

Klaus smiled knowingly and cleared his throat.

“Imagine me, in my fifties, a silver fox living in a sprawling estate with my fifth, no, sixth husband, a nubile young thing from Palm Springs that I fell head over heels in lust with and that I married only because the sex is _ahhmaaazing_. And one morning there comes a knock at my door, knock knock, and I tell the butler please, allow me, and I open the door and standing on my porch is a beautiful young man, just beautiful, and he reminds me of his mother, a beautiful stranger I met at a foam party many decades ago and whom I accidentally blew my load into – ”

“Oh my God,” Allison moaned. She shook her empty wine glass at Klaus. “Wine me before you finish your story.”

Klaus gave a deep curtsy before taking Allison’s glass and filling it near the brim. He swished back to the couch, sat the glass before Allison, and took a seat next to her, legs crossed.

“As I was saying, standing on my porch is a beautiful young man, carrying two black Louis Vuitton duffel bags. And he drops them and cries, ‘Father! I have searched my whole life for you! It is I, your bastard son!’ And I throw my arms open and scream ‘My son! You have come home!’ And he’ll call me daddy – but not sexually – and I will live out my golden years with the most loyal of all my bastard children, by which I’ll have had several more over the decades.”

“You have put a lot of thought into this fantasy,” Allison said in an almost complimentary tone.

“I’m living for it. If it doesn’t manifest, I’ll drop dead,” Klaus said dramatically. “I’ve even planned _that_. Imagine me, in my fifties - ”

“Today is supposed to be about me,” Allison reminded him, and he flashed Allison finger guns in response.

“You’re damn right,” he agreed. “And we’re going to get you feeling better so you can tell your astronaut that you’re madly in love with him and he’ll return to earth and you’ll pop his cherry! It’ll be so romantic! Disney will want the rights!”

*

The empty Franzia boxes continue to stack up. At one point Allison asked how many boxes Klaus had stashed away.

“Darling, I don’t even fucking know anymore,” he lamented as they poured over old photographs strewn across the floor. Allison picked one up off the pile, a candid snap Mom or Pogo must have taken of a 14-year-old Allison and a 14-year-old-Klaus, their teenage heads bent over glossy teenage magazines.

“Do you want to hear the dumbest thing?” Allison laughed as she stared at the picture. “I remember having a crush on you for about five minutes when we were kids. Can you believe that?”

“No you didn’t,” Klaus said dismissively.

“I did!” Allison insisted. She nudged him with her elbow and grinned. “You were what I needed when I was 14 – you were brooding and dangerous. I wanted to tame you,” she added, and immediately dissolved into giggles.

“That is literally the most adorable thing I’ve heard all week,” Klaus said and leaned against Allison’s shoulder.

“So remember the day you mouthed off to Dad at the dinner table?” Allison asked.

“Which day?”

“The one where he retaliated by putting you in a crypt for thirty-six hours.”

“Oh yeah! That was a nice day. Go on.”

“I remember catching up with you in the garden after you came back, and there was a second where you tousled your hair and smiled at me and in that moment I wanted you to kiss me so badly, so badly that I actually thought about initiating it myself, but...then Luther found us.”

“And you went off with him,” Klaus said. “Yeah, I remember that. But I must have been reading you wrong, I had no idea you ever wanted to kiss me.”

“Mm, it’s like I said, it was a brief crush and in all fairness I’ve had a crush on each of you guys at one time or another. Living in a house filled with cute boys at a time where I was discovering boys was a special kind of torture for me.”

Klaus clapped a hand on Allison’s knee before standing up and taking both empty wine glasses. “Well, if you’re ever down to turning on some Backstreet Boys and pretending that we’re awkward teens, let me know. We could turn off the lights and awkwardly touch each other until one of us gets off prematurely and cries.” As he ripped the top from the box of Franzia to retrieve the bladder, he whispered harshly to Allison, “Me. It’ll be me. I _always_ get off prematurely and cry.”

He cut open the bladder and squeezed the last drops of rosé into one of the two glasses before tossing the sack behind him and declaring “well, that one’s done-zo. What are you feeling, red or white?”

Allison sat back and thought it over before answering with something out of left field.

“You have weed, right?”

Klaus’s face lit up. He glided to another cabinet and retrieved a small leather trunk and presented it to Allison.

“I have whatever you need. Well, within reason,” he said. “So how are we feeling, are we indica, are we sativa, oh, I have this fun little hybrid from California, maybe that?”

“What’s this?” Allison asked, picking through the contents of the stash box and pulling out a tiny baggie.

“That’s nothing,” Klaus said, reaching quickly for it. Allison pulled her hand back.

“What’s this?” she repeated. Klaus began to stammer before stumbling out a hurried excuse.

“So the last guy I was banging must have left that behind,” Klaus said with a titter.

“Yeah, no, somehow I don’t believe you,” Allison said. “Klaus. I’m seriously getting worried about you. You’re losing the apartment, you have _that_ in your stash box – is this new? When did this start?!”

“It hasn’t,” Klaus said defensively. “I just bought it the day before. I was curious, okay? I haven’t tried it yet and you know what...you know what, just give it to me and I’ll throw it away.”

“I will,” Allison said sharply. “I’ll take it to the police and have them dispose of it. I’ll just tell them I found heroin in my brother’s apartment.”

“Don’t tell them that, just…” Klaus shook his head. “Allison, I’m sorry. You’re right, you throw it out.”

“Thank you,” Allison whispered.

*

Several hours (and several glasses of wine) later, Klaus and Allison were snuggled rather comfortably on the couch, watching an old VHS of Spice World that Klaus had kept from childhood.

She scratched her nails idly up and down Klaus’s leg, and luxuriated in the warmth of his embrace. Her heartbreak from that morning seemed so far away; of course she would write Luther a letter and send it on the next rocket up. Of course she would confess her deepest feelings to him. In the perfumed fog of fermented grapes, the solution seemed so simple. In the end, everything would work itself out perfectly, she thought contentedly.

“Remember when we tried putting together a Spice Girls cover band?” Klaus said idly, pulling Allison from her comfortable trance. “And remember when Five pitched a big fit because he wanted to be Posh, but I also wanted to be Posh and I wasn’t willing to cooperate with him, so he left?”

“Yeah, that was a little shitty of you,” Allison said. “You’re not even Posh, you’re Ginger and you know it!”

“I wasn’t going to let Five outshine me,” Klaus said haughtily.

“I would be hard pressed to find anyone who can outshine you,” Allison murmured.

“You think?” Klaus asked, as he gave Allison a little squeeze.

At that, she shifted closer and turned her face towards Klaus. She lifted a free hand from her lap and walked the tips of her fingers slowly down the angle of his stubbled jaw and for one brief moment she felt like she was looking at his face for the first time.

“Mm, so...remind me what you were saying earlier about me in the garden?” Klaus asked, and immediately Allison pulled him in for a kiss, because why not?

It came as a surprise none-the-less. After all, Allison came over because she was in love with a man on the moon, a man who had flown away with her heart. But Klaus was just a _little_ drunk, and Klaus was kissed like this so rarely that he threw anything resembling self-control out the window, sunk his fingers into Allison’s hair, and returned her kiss with a little more need.

“Weird,” Klaus murmured after a pause. “But I like it.”

“Right?” Allison breathed.

And when they kissed again, it was as if the rest of the world had fallen away. Neither of them could be hard pressed to remember the events that reunited them that morning, and frankly, none of that mattered. Nothing mattered, not even poor Ben sitting adjacent to the two on the couch, his face stuck in an expression of both revulsion and sick curiosity.

“Is it cool with you two if I keep watching the movie then?” Ben asked. “Because I’d really like to keep watching the movie.” He stared at the television in mute shock for a time before glancing back at Klaus and Allison, who were far too enamored in one another to respond.

“Cool. I’m going to keep watching the movie then. Man, I wish I could taste popcorn.”

*

The next morning, Klaus cut a fresh line of cocaine on the granite countertop and thought back fondly on all the times he did coke _right_ off of this very countertop, _right_ as he snorted the line up his right nostril. He yelped loudly and wrung out his hands before wiping his nose repeatedly.

“Jesus fucking Christ JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” he shouted.

Immediately he turned to one of the cabinets and began rifling through the plastic bowls, finding the largest one, and dumped an obscene amount of Bisquick into the bowl. From across the kitchen, Ben sat on the center island, his legs dangling.

“If you keep making this much noise, you’re going to wake Allison,” he said.

“We’re fine,” Klaus said quickly, as he ladled pancake batter into a hot pan.

“Speaking of Allison, uh, can I ask about what happened last night?” Ben asked. Klaus loosened the pancake from the pan with a spatula before giving the pan a flip; only half made it back into the pan. He shrugged and turned off the stove.

“Delivery it is I guess. And what do you mean?”

“Allison kissed you. You kissed Allison. It was weird.”

“A little weird, but,” Klaus said with a shrug.

Ben tilted forward and stared at Klaus with an almost clinical interest.

“Did she use tongue?” he asked in a low voice.

“Oh my God Ben, we do not kiss and tell in this family and yes she did!” Klaus scolded. Ben exhaled and shook his head.

“Man, you’re so lucky. I always wanted to kiss Allison but I was afraid Luther would beat me up,” he said wistfully.

“Hey Ben.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember when you were thirteen and you had a crush on some girl down the street, and you wanted to see a movie with her but you were afraid that after the date she would want to kiss, and you didn’t know how, so I offered to practice with you?” Klaus said as he began pulling ingredients together for mimosas.

“Yeah,” Ben said. He stared off in quiet contemplation before adding, “Yeah. You were the best wingman. You were always there for me when it came to the ladies.”

Klaus bobbed his head.

“Always looking out for _mien bruder_ ,” he hummed.

“Klaus, what the hell is going on in here?”

Klaus turned and smiled at Allison. There was something delightfully charming about the way she stood in the hall in found pajamas, her hair a complete mess and her face scrunched up with sleep blindness _and_ a blinding hangover.

“Good morning starshine, the earth says hello,” Klaus sang.

“It sounds like you’re tearing down the fucking walls, what are you even doing in here?”

“Makin’ pancakes!” Klaus said proudly, as he motioned to the outstanding mess behind him. Allison nodded once.

“Do you have any coffee?” she croaked, and Klaus set a hot cup in front of her almost immediately.

“One step ahead of you,” he said cheerfully.

Allison grunted her appreciation and held the cup between both hands before taking a long sip. She scrunched up her face in concentration. Or was it regret? It was probably safe to say that it was a bit of both.

“I just can’t shake the feeling that I did something stupid,” she mumbled miserably. Slowly, she rose her head and narrowed her eyes at Klaus. “I remember you holding me?”

“Yeah we were canoodling on the couch during Spice World, remember?” he said.

“No, not that...”

“Allison, Allison, Allison, it’s called a hangover. You have anxiety because your body doesn’t know what to do with all this alcohol it’s trying to process. Have some breakfast, have a mimosa, you’ll feel right as rain.”

“Something happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Do you swear?”

“I swear. If something happened, I would tell you.” Klaus set a mimosa before Allison and pushed the glass closer to her. “We have the same definition of something, I assume?”

“What’s your definition of ‘something’?”

“Anything less than a one-night-stand is nothing and should be treated as such.”

“We have two very different definitions of something.”

“I just don’t want you to become upset over a kiss, it was nothing, really it was nothing, we were both a little drunk – well, you more so than I, but I can’t quite catch the same buzz I used to – ”

“No no no back up, _we kissed_?”

“Yeah, that was also during Spice World. My, you and Spice World!”

Allison pouted and reached for her mimosa, casting it a forlorn stare before gulping back half the glass.

“Listen, I don’t regret it, alright?” Klaus continued breezily. “It happened, it’s in the past, and we’ll never speak of it again if it makes you feel any better.”

“Yeah, but truthfully, I don’t know what bothers me more: the fact that I was drunk so I don’t remember it, or the fact that I was drunk so I don’t remember it,” she said with a sigh.

And Klaus looked over at Ben, and covertly gestured a sweep of his hand ( _leave the room you fucking creep_ ) and after returning his gaze to Allison, he said, “You’re just hung over, right?”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“What if you finish that mimosa and take a shower? I’ll order breakfast, and we can…I don’t know, revisit this topic when we’re both feeling a little more refreshed? I mean, I still have the apartment until the thirty-first.”

“You really want to turn on Backstreet Boys and pretend that we’re awkward teens, don’t you?”

“Don’t you?”

Allison shrugged. He got her there.

“I’ll tell you after breakfast.”


End file.
